


Lost In Translation

by AEpixie7



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Binge Drinking, But mostly it's just dumb, Drinking, Drunk Celestials, Drunk Dumbasses, F/M, Himbo Gabriel, Humor, Innuendo, It's cute if you squint, John Oliver References, Morosexual Beelzebub, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Thirsty Beelzebub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Beelzebub and Gabriel are wasted and Bee is HORNY.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	Lost In Translation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killerweasel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/gifts).



> This gift fic is the result of a conversation about [ this gif set of John Oliver on Tumblr](https://nocontextjohnoliver.tumblr.com/post/612041975372316672) and how it perfectly expresses my feelings concerning Jon Hamm. I may be projecting on Beelzebub only a lot.  
> Happy Birthday @KillerWeasel!!!

Beelzebub hiccuped loudly, only just realizing that it was the first sound either one of them had made in hours. Maybe days. 

“You wann soberup?” she slurred, the room spinning until her eyes managed to focus on the Archangel slouched in the lounger across from her. His shirt was completely unbuttoned and untucked from his trousers, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a glass of whiskey dangling precariously from his hand draped over the armrest. His head was resting on the back of the chair and his eyes were closed, but she knew he hadn't passed out because he didn’t really ever sleep, so he didn’t know passing out was an option. His head rolled forward and he slowly blinked his amethyst eyes drunkenly at her. 

“Nuh. M’enjoying myself. 'S nice. It’s like a weird kinda numb where I don’t have to think about anything, but like, my heart is super loud and I can hear it in my fingertips?” 

Gabriel was rambling, but Beelzebub had honestly stopped listening halfway through. Her angel just looked so sloppy and kind of sweaty and _why_ was that sexy? His hair was still fantastically mussed and his trousers unzipped from their last mostly clothed, drunken romp. Neither of them had ever stayed this drunk for this long, so it was uncharted territory. Beelzebub felt weightless but also heavy, like she was floating but she couldn’t move from her spot on the sofa, it was just so _comfy_. She squirmed and grunted, dropping the bottle of whatever alcohol she’d been nursing off the side of the sofa with a whispered “ _shit_.” 

She rolled over and retrieved the bottle, stopping once again to admire her angel. When had he gotten scruffy? Had they really been drunk that long? Why was his face all fuzzy? And why did that make her want to topple his chair over and sit on his face until he suffocated? And why did he have to sit like a hooker and why were his legs so looooong? 

“You’re like a… sexy tree,” she mumbled, not really even registering that her mouth had spoken the words before her brain could comprehend that she'd thought them. Gabriel snorted. 

“What… th'fuck… does that even mean?” 

“Why… 'ts not fair. Why'd God have to make you look like _that?_ ” 

Gabriel looked down at himself, blinking several times in confusion and doing a half-assed job of tucking one side of his shirt back in his wide open trousers. “Like what?” 

“Like… a tree I'd like to climb.” 

“Bee… 'm too drunk for this…” 

“Look at thozzzze thighs. They're so _meaty!_ Like the trunk of a big, sexy redwood. Y'know you could do whatever…” _*hiccup*_ “…you wanted to me and I'd zzzzzay thank you.” 

Gabriel looked completely lost, disheveled, flushed, and turned on all at the same time. Beelzebub started giggling at her own thoughts before she realized no one else could hear them. 

“Shatter my knees, you fuckable redwood!” she cackled, her laughter choking off in almost silent wheezes as she covered her face with one hand. 

Gabriel was laughing, and he’d dropped his whiskey glass onto the floor. Of course his abs did marvelous things when he was laughing. It just made Beelzebub laugh harder at her own ridiculousness. Had the alcohol done this to her? Or was she always a thirsty hoe for that big, dumb, pretty himbo? 

“Snap off my toes, you big, unwashed buffalo!” she shouted, falling off the side of the sofa and laughing so hard she felt tears forming in her eyes. Gabriel leaned forward to help her up and also toppled from his chair, both of them now far too weak from laughing to pull themselves off the floor. 

“Bee I don’t know what any of that means, and I can’t tell if it’s an actual request…” 

Beelzebub flopped an arm over and patted his scruffy jaw roughly a few times. “How’zzzz this for clarity? I want you to scramble my guts you overpriced aubergine.” 

“Oh for the love of… Bee I'm the Messenger Angel, not the Google Translate Angel, will you please speak in a tongue I can understand?” 

Beelzebub could almost hear the _clang_ as the scales that measured Gabriel's worth as a partner tipped heavily to the _sexy_ end and yeeted the _smart_ end clear into the abyss. 

“Fuck me sidewayzzz…” she cursed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 

“Oh,” Gabriel pushed up onto his elbows, an eyebrow raised suggestively. “Why didn’t you just say that?”


End file.
